Fear.
The same cold, red eyes that Harry had seen from the graveyard, rising from the foggy mist. The same, spidery white fingers that reached out towards him. The same high, cold voice that pierced Pettigrew's sobbing, ordered Cedric's death… "Kill the spare!"
A cold wave of helplessness swept through Harry's body.
He couldn't move, fingers still tightly wrapped around the prophecy. Percy wasn't stirring, motionless from the green blast that radiated from the Lady. Across the room, Neville was frantically trying to wake Hermione up, but her head just lolled against her chest.
Even Macnair and Bellatrix had knelt. They were the only Death Eaters that were conscious. The rest of the Death Eaters had been knocked out by Percy's hurricane, stretched out against the ground like black shadows.
Harry couldn't raise a finger when the red eyes turned towards him and studied him. There was no emotion in those eyes, even colder than the rubies that shone heartlessly amongst the massive wealth of Gringotts.
Then the red eyes turned towards Percy's body sprawled on the ground.
"He's mine," Medea spoke up, cutting through the cold silence. She was the only one who wasn't looking terrified. Instead, she was staring at her pristine fingernails, leaning back against the wall. The gash that Percy had made was still on her face, a forgotten slash that dripped red down Medea's cheek.
"Yours?" Voldemort sounded amused. The cold amusement was somehow even more terrifying, an amusement that knew no bounds of cruelty or humanity. "He doesn't look like much."
"Oh, he will be something." Her voice was cool. It bordered on politeness, but Harry could hear a thin layer of chilliness.
Voldemort's eyes flickered over the blood dripping down Medea's face. His responding smile was scornful. "I'm sure you fought your best."
This time, Medea bristled. She drew up to her full height, and with a wave of her hand, the gash on her face disappeared in a swirl of green magic. Only the blood remained on her face, a thin streak of red that glistened.
"Watch your words."
Voldemort's smile was like a gash and was just as ugly as one. "You cannot even dispose of small threats."
"He is powerful."
"You need a tool that you can control, not a tool that has a mind of his own," Voldemort scoffed. "Too soft… the reason why you have never killed the very man who has used you and threw you away after he found someone better…"
The glow behind Medea's eyes was growing, throbbing with barely restrained fury.
"You only murdered your children instead of murdering them all… your lover, his family, and your children." The words came out in a low hiss. "And now you refuse to kill this puny child-"
The air snapped.
"I have known about magic longer than you and your precious wizarding world has been alive. Tread carefully, wizard," Medea spat, eyes glowing. Runes danced in the air around her, glimmering the same green as her eyes. "The child you are speaking about has survived more than you can imagine."
The hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood up. He could feel the thrum of power running through the veins on the ground as if Medea was the center of the magic in the room, the heartbeat running throughout the body of the Ministry. The animalistic part of him told him to run, to flee, and never look back…
The magic was ancient. Even more ancient than the magic that Voldemort used that night he resurrected from being a formless spirit, even more ancient than Harry had ever seen Dumbledore been-it was a type of magic that whispered and breathed as much as any living being did.
In the corner of Harry's eye, Neville had stopped banging on the barrier that Medea formed between her fight with Percy and the outside world. His borrowed wand lay forgotten on the ground beside him, arms limp to his sides. He was gazing into the green light horrified, Hermione still unconscious on the ground.
They met eyes. Harry could see the same hopelessness reflected in Neville's eyes, the same panic and fear that he was feeling…
If the Lady had teamed up with Voldemort, then what chance did the Light side have? What hope did they have to defeat the two monstrous forces?
Voldemort didn't back down. Nor did he raise his wand.
He stood there.
"I am of use to you," he said quietly. "And as much as I despise to admit it, you are of use to me as well. Throw as many petty tantrums as you would like. You cannot touch me, as long as you desire your revenge."
"I will fight against the gods myself," she spat. "I will tear them down, piece by piece, without your help."
For a second, the magic roared even louder, green light shining even more menacingly. Harry could feel a phantom wind tossing his hair around, a warning… every nerve in his body came alive…
"Too pathetic to enact revenge for your children." Even though Voldemort's voice wasn't raised, his words still rang out against the roaring winds, like a knife cutting through butter. "You asked for my help to topple the gods. Now you cannot control your temper?"
The magic screamed.
"You cannot win without my help. As much as you wish otherwise, you are still an outsider to this world and to this magic."
There was no doubt in Voldemort's voice, no sign of hesitation or worry. Only confidence thrummed throughout his voice, confidence that reflected in his cold eyes, and the way he stared at Medea.
Medea's mouth bared into a snarl.
Voldemort stood tall.
Then as suddenly as it appeared, the feeling of magic sparking in the air died down, as if it had never happened in the first place.
Medea turned away from Voldemort. The expression on her face was flat, wiped clean of any anger and frustration that she had before.
"Do not forget." Her voice was even flatter. "If you do not assist me in flattening Olympus, I will make sure to rip apart your flesh from your bones. I will make sure that your blood will boil and your skin will rot, and I will lead you myself to the depths of Tartarus."
Voldemort tilted his head downward, red eyes shining triumphantly. "I shall assist you in any way I can, my Lady."
Medea snorted derisively. But she didn't respond, just leaned back against the wall and went back to studying her fingernails. "I suppose that your plan has failed? None of the others have arrived yet."
"They will come." Voldemort's head turned towards Harry's again, and seeing that horrible, scaly face, those glinting, red eyes made Harry's heart shudder. Then he realized that Voldemort wasn't looking at him. He was staring at the glass prophecy sitting in Harry's hand, still filled with mist.
His slit-like eyes narrowed even further.
Before Harry could shove the prophecy back into his pocket, Voldemort waved his wand. The orb flew out of Harry's hand without any resistance as if Harry's hand had been coated with oil. He dove towards the orb and missed, fingers slipping past the suddenly too-smooth surface of the prophecy.
It had been the only bargaining tool that Harry had left, the only tool that was keeping him alive from the Death Eaters… now, surely with the prophecy gone, the Death Eaters would converge on Harry and his friends, and the truth, the real truth…
With his last effort, Harry tried summoning the orb back, wand in hand… "Accio," he gritted out hoarsely.
The orb momentarily twitched…
… before resuming its original course.
Panic pooled in Harry's stomach as he watched the prophecy fly into the horrible long white fingers that wrapped around the glass.
Voldemort would finally discover that the prophecy wasn't really-
Red eyes met Harry's gaze.
Harry's heart stopped.
Then in a long hiss, Voldemort breathed out, "Lucius."
For a brief second, no one moved. Only silence thrummed amongst the large room, sounding even louder than Voldemort's own words ringing through the air.
"Lucius." Voldemort hissed even more insistently. His red eyes narrowed, reminding Harry even more of a hungry snake, fangs threateningly pulled out. "I know you are awake. If you do not come out, I will curse you and your entire family."
Nothing happened. Then, with a shuffle of fabric, one of the cloaked figures that Harry had thought was simply unconscious, rose to his feet. In one, smooth motion, Lucius flung himself towards Voldemort.
"Master." His voice was painfully brittle. "I have tried the best that I've-"
"Silence."
Lucius fell silent.
"Did you think you could hide from me?"
"You have gotten your orb," Lucius breathed out, and the fear tinging his voice made bile rise and sting Harry's throat. He had never liked the pompous prat, never liked the way he stuck up his nose and looked down at the Weasleys, despised him for his treatment of Dobby and Muggleborns and anyone who wasn't a pureblood.
But seeing him groveling at Voldemort's feet, reduced to a shivering lump, felt so wrong.
Harry's fingers instinctively clutched his wand. His brain was too foggy to think of a good spell. But it didn't even matter anyway… this was Voldemort, and Harry was sure that one of the most destructive wizards in wizarding society could defend himself against 5th-year spells.
"The orb is in your hands," Lucius repeated. "I have finished my duty to deliver the prophecy to you, my Lord."
Voldemort stayed quiet. He studied the black-cloaked lump on the ground.
"The orb," he finally repeated. His voice had gotten cooler, like water beginning to freeze. His red eyes fell on the orb in his hand like he was finally staring at it for the first time. "The prophecy."
Thin, white fingers raised the glass prophecy in the air like a second-year holding one of Hogwarts gaudy, Christmas baubles. For a second, Harry thought that Voldemort might let Lucius go from the silence that resumed...
Then, suddenly, the prophecy flew towards Lucius's bent head.
"Look at me, Lucius."
Hesitation. Then Lucius slowly lifted his head, silvery blonde hair falling against his forehead. His usual, pristine look of an aristocrat was gone. Only the remains of his pompous self were left-his silver, barely calm eyes, thin lips, tightened jaw.
"This is the product of your work?" Voldemort asked, gesturing to the prophecy now floating in front of Lucius's head.
"Yes, my Lord. Just as you have asked."
If possible, Voldemort's red eyes grew even cooler.
"Break it."
Harry took in a sharp intake of breath. They couldn't break it now, not when-
"My Lord?"
As quick as a viper, Voldemort flicked his wand. With a loud, crunching sound, Lucius's left hand twisted on itself, fingers curled unnaturally backward.
Lucius howled, a loud, animalistic sound that pierced the air.
Harry clutched his head, trying to stop the ringing in his ears... he didn't want to see the blood dripping down Lucius's hand and the limp fingers, but his head wouldn't move away from the strange white that was now poking out of Lucius's misshapen hand.
"Break it, Lucius," Voldemort hissed. "Do not make me repeat it one more time."
Lucius was gasping for breath, his hand curled around his chest. "My Lord," he coughed out. "Please-"
Another twitch of Voldemort's wand. Another piercing howl of pain. Both Lucius's hands were now hanging towards the ground, dripping blood that seemed too red for the pale blue that washed over the room from the once brain-filled aquarium-
"Enough."
Medea's voice cut through the air. She materialized, lips thinned- she had disappeared into the background, once Voldemort had called for Lucius. "The wizard will not be able to stand once you are finished with him."
"He must break the prophecy first," Voldemort growled.
A look passed between the both of them… Medea's eyes narrowed, but she stepped away again. Dread filled Harry's chest… Medea wasn't meeting Lucius's confused glance, the orb was still dangling carelessly in front of Lucius…
She must have known. They must have known-
Lucius's face twisted in pain as one of his ruined hands clutched the glass orb, but with a final, decisive move, he pushed his hand down… the orb spun towards the ground…
Glass shattered against the ground.
No ghost, no prophecy, no nothing.
Only the glass shards remained on the ground.
Lucius's eyes widened. "The prophecy…" he began.
"You were too late," Voldemort cut him off. "Bested by a fifteen-year-old, bested by a simple Charms trick, bested, Lucius."
"I don't understand." The fear was beginning to overwhelm Lucius's voice again, fear that rolled over the room, so thick that Harry could almost taste the bitterness. "I don't understand."
"This prophecy was fake," Voldemort whispered. His red eyes met Harry's again, and this time, they burned into his eyes, burned into his thoughts… his scar was burning, a scorching, red hot pain that flickered and seared into his forehead.
He could feel an unknown presence burying into his head, tried to force the door shut against the worm wriggling into his thoughts. But there was no stopping it… he could feel the thing in his mind throw itself against his frantic defenses, could feel the barriers caving away like ice melting against the summer heat...
Memories flashed within his mind's eye… Bellatrix laughing wildly, the gash that opened up as the red curse cut through his body, the orb shattering, the ghost rising amid the chaos, safely hidden behind the shield-
It had been before Percy had exploded. When Bellatrix faced them with a gleam in her eye when the gray shield materialized around Harry after he shot another Diffindo spell towards her.
His red curse had stopped rebounding once the ghost showed up, as if the ghost had swallowed the magic. For a second, Harry had been relieved-his arms and legs were going to stay intact-but then, the ghost spoke.
The prophecy. And he had broken the orb, broken the only bargaining tool he had…
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…"
The power to do what?
Harry looked at the ghost that had risen from the broken shards of glass, a murky swab of gray that shivered and hovered in the air. A sudden coldness dripped through his heart… who else knew about the prophecy? Did Dumbledore hear of it before he did… was this what Bellatrix was laughing about?
The ghost continued, drawing out his words. "...born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...:"
It was getting harder and harder to hear the ghost through the voices shouting outside of the gray shield… he could faintly see the images of Bellatrix and Percy now-
"...will be born as the seventh month dies..."
He couldn't let Bellatrix know that the prophecy broke, that the Death Eaters had no reason to keep Harry and his friends alive anymore-
The ghost disappeared from the air, leaving nothing but glass shards on the ground.
With a frantic burst of energy, Harry whipped out his wand and pointing them at the glass… "Reparo," he hissed out. "Reparo-"
His side was aching… the glass shards only shivered on the ground, and nothing more, nothing was happening…
He couldn't do it, the Death Eaters would know and realize that nothing was stopping them from killing him and...
The images of his friends flickered through his head. There were no more luxuries of "couldn't" anymore, there was no time to risk if someone discovered an injured friend of his with the only command to kill-
"Reparo."
The glass flew back together, forming into a plain, orb… one that Harry instinctively knew had no more connection to the prophecy.
But it didn't matter. As long as they thought he had the prophecy still, as long as they didn't see the glass cuts on his hands, his friends would be safe. Quickly, he scooped up the glass ball from the ground before the gray shield cleared.
As Percy's concerned eyes met his, and Bellatrix's excited grin came into focus, Harry took a deep breath.
Time to start the show.
The show that had just shattered into pieces in front of Lucius's rapidly paling face.
The alien presence that tore into his thoughts suddenly pulled away. Harry stumbled back, as Voldemort's red eyes turned towards Lucius.
"Harry!"
He could faintly hear Neville's thoughts far away as if he was calling out Harry's name underwater. It could have been his imagination… Harry couldn't tell.
"My Lord," Harry heard Lucius begging, but his voice was drowned up by the blood thundering in his head. "I promise, I did not realize… no one realized-"
"I have given you too many chances, Lucius."
The thin, white fingers that rolled around the orb now were clutching at a wand, pointed straight at Lucius's prone figure still kneeling on the ground.
"My Lord." Desperation. Fear. "Please. I have a son, have mercy… I swear on my magic that I'll do better next time, that I won't fail you-"
"You won't fail me?" The voice came out in a soft hiss. "You've already failed me, Lucius."
"My Lord-"
"Avada Kedavra."
A flash of green light.
For a second, Lucius's body froze there, hand reaching out, illuminated by the burst of light from Voldemort's wand. Then, the arm fell forward, and the body collapsed to the ground, a puppet no longer held up by strings.
For a second, Harry didn't register the now-blank face of Lucius on the ground, didn't feel anything through the tattered pieces of his mind that were stitching itself together. He only heard the sharp intake of breath from Neville, a strangled yelp that suffocated itself and perpetuated the sudden chilliness that sang in the air.
Then something sparked in his mind.
Lucius's eyes looked like Malfoy's, but without the fire. Just simply, dead.
Dead.
There was hope, Lucius could have joined the light side and redeemed himself… Malfoy's face suddenly flashed in his mind, ferret-like and pointed, and somehow, Harry couldn't imagine the same face in mourning-
Oh, Merlin.
Malfoy. His father, killed by the wizard he was serving under.
Harry tried to take another step forward, towards the limp shape of Lucius flat on the ground… it would just be so easy to try to wake him up because he couldn't be so easily dead, he had been alive just seconds ago-
Cedric's lifeless eyes flashed across his mind.
It was possible.
He had seen it with his own eyes last year, the image of Cedric's dead body flying across the sky, the cold, clammy feel of his lifeless hand as he grasped the Portkey cup.
Dead. In a few spoken words, they were just… gone.
He dropped to the ground and retched. He couldn't breathe… a throbbing pain was splitting his head open as if Voldemort had scooped out his brains, like Filch digging out pumpkin guts before the Halloween festival.
Vaguely, he realized that the makeshift bandage surrounding his side was wet. He placed his hand on the ground and lifted it to see the remains of a red handprint on the ground… he was still bleeding, blood dripping front the wound on his chest-
This was all just a bad dream… and if Harry could just open his eyes, he would be able to see the familiar colors of red and gold sparkle, Voldemort nowhere in sight, Ron snoring loudly across the room.
"HARRY!"
He rested his aching head against the cold floor-
Neville's worried face swam into view. Hands pulled him up. "You can'd fall asleep here."
Harry closed his eyes. He just wanted for the headache throbbing within his head to settle down, that it was all just a bad nightmare and when he woke up, everyone would still be fine...
A sudden flash of pain exploded against his cheek.
Harry jerked up.
Neville's hand was raised. Blearily, Harry realized that Neville must have slapped him.
"You can'd fall asleep." Neville's voice was still foggy, but now, Harry could see his lips moving along with his words. His eyebrows were pressed together, lips scrunched. Dried blood streaked from his nose and beneath his cloak, crusty and a deep reddish color. "I came d'o you as fasd as I can… 'ermione 'dill won'd wake up, Percy's nod waking up eiber…"
"Where's Voldemort," Harry interrupted him. His voice came out croaky and muddled. He spat on the ground, ignoring the red that came out, and tried again. "Voldemort… he was just here."
Neville paused. His eyes were worried. "I don'd… I don'd know," he admitted. "He's somebere in the Minis'dry of Mabic… he disabeared withoud saying anoder word."
"He didn't… kill anyone?" The words felt fuzzy in his mouth. "Besides…" His voice trailed.
Neville, thank Merlin, took the hint, and quickly picked up the question.
"No one else is dead." Relief spilled from his voice. "We oughd to leave… I'm nod sure when dey're coming back-"
"You're not going anywhere." Medea's voice suddenly echoed throughout the hall.
She strode over, footsteps loud compared to the silent Death Eaters sprawled against the ground, the still bent figures of Bellatrix and Macnair. When she carefully stepped over Lucius, something passed over her face-something strangely like remorse, sadness-but it disappeared so quickly that Harry wasn't sure he had imagined it.
Neville straightened up. "Vold- You-Know-Who isn'd here," he spat out. "You hab no business here. I don'd know whad you're d'rying d'o do, I don'd know why you wad Percy, bu'd you can'd hab him-"
"My work here is done," Medea cut in. "I will not be staying while the so-called Dark Lord cleans up his messes."
Messes, the dead bodies that Voldemort had murdered over the decades were just messes, like some silly little potion he had spilled during Potions. As if the body lying on the ground had never been important to someone.
"He was a father," Harry hissed. "He was a father, and you let him die."
He had never cared about Lucius before, had wanted him to suffer like he made Dobby suffer, had hated him for tormenting the Weasleys and for perpetuating the pureblood archetype throughout the ministry and the Wizarding World. But somehow, there didn't seem to be any point in hating the suddenly small, pathetic figure sprawled on the floor.
"He chose his path," Medea said cooly, and the sympathy that Harry spotted before completely flickered out of her eyes, drowned in the dark shadows within her eyes. "He betrayed others to save his own skin, was a coward-"
Harry slammed a fist against the floor. The slap reverberated across the room, loud and sharp. "You're a coward," Harry gritted out, ignoring the sudden sharp burst of pain in his wrist. "You have the power to defeat Voldemort, and you still follow his words and grovel under his feet. Do you know who is the pathetic one here?"
He stared straight into Medea's flashing eyes.
"You are," he breathed out. "You are pathetic."
Something in Medea's face froze, something painful and deep, like Harry had somehow reopened a chasm of agony within her. But then, green light began glowing beneath her skin again, runes flickering back into being.
The power washed over Harry, a waterfall crashing over him. He flinched backward, feeling every inch of his body screaming at him to get away, danger-
Harry couldn't understand how Percy had managed. It wasn't just the amount of power that dripped from her, it was the age, the way it seeped into Harry's every pore. Her power felt old, the power of someone who had the experience of centuries, a power that had festered and grown like fermenting brandy that Uncle Vernon had a particular fondness for.
Maybe angering a supernatural being wasn't the smartest of ideas.
But before Harry thought that Medea would explode on him, leaving nothing of him but a faint splotch of burnt flesh on the ground, suddenly her head swiveled around.
The light stopped. The green receded into her skin.
"They're here," she murmured under her breath.
Before Harry could even question that statement, she turned around to face him again.
"We will meet again," Medea said, and the tone of her voice was neither angry nor pleased. It was factual, as if she could read the future in her palms and trace the way their paths were going to be intertwined. "Farewell, Harry Potter."
"But- what- we didn't-" Harry spluttered.
She disappeared in a flash of green, in a manner so nondescript that Harry's brain stayed fixated on that empty spot of air.
"HARRY!"
It sounded strangely like Sirius calling his name. But it couldn't be… he must be imagining things from the blood loss, there was no one else in the room except quiet bodies and the threat of Voldemort still in the air-
The sudden burst of energy that he had when facing Medea suddenly drained out of him.
In the corner of his eye, he could see Neville staggering up to his feet. He was clutching one of the Death Eater's wands, hands trembling against the wood. But when he lifted his head, his voice still rang strong.
"S'DAY AWAY!" Neville brandished his wand in front of him, as a blurry, distant figure came closer. But even Harry could tell from the wobble in Neville's hand that he wasn't going to stay up much longer either.
Harry closed his eyes again. He did not want to stand up to fight another Death Eater… his body ached with pain and the swirling room was making his head hurt…
He could hear the dark shape coming closer, could hear the ragged breaths of Neville beside him.
There were too many Death Eaters.
He wished that people were coming to rescue him and his friends, that his stupid mistake wouldn't cost anyone their lives… even though it already had, with Malfoy's dad cold against the floor.
He wished that it was Sirius in front of him.
"Merlin's underpants," Not-Sirius whispered, with the same voice as Sirius would have. "What have they done to you both?"
The hallucination didn't go away.
Harry cracked open an eye. Neville had stopped flailing his wand around and was now staring confusedly at the less blurry shape in front of them. "Waid. Aren'd you subbosed do be evil?"
"Is that the right question to ask a person who might be evil?" the person asked wryly. "I don't think I'm evil."
"I thoubd Harry wub jusd hypervendila'ing." Neville's voice had risen a few octaves higher. "Whad do you mean, you don'd dink you're evil?"
Sirius?
"I stole Moony's pillow a couple of nights ago because he wouldn't let me go outside," the person said mournfully. "Remus did tell me I was evil. Right, Moony?"
Another person suddenly shuffled into Harry's sight, giving a long-suffering sigh. It was quickly countered by the familiar hint of amusement in his voice. "Sirius. Now is not the time. Although you still have to return my pillow."
"Not when you're forcing me to stay inside," the other person complained.
The second person ignored him, and instead, faced the two incredulous looks. "Hello, Harry and Neville. It has been a while since I've seen you both."
Neville gaped. "Professor Lupin? Sirius Black is friends wid Professor Lupin?"
"Unfortunately." Lupin headed towards Neville's side, and knelt, pulling out his wand. "That's quite a nasty nosebleed you got there."
Maybe-Sirius waved a dismissive hand. "More like the old fart is friends with me. He knows I'm the exciting one." His eyes turned to meet Harry's, and the familiar concern within the depths of those dark eyes made Harry's heart leap.
"You look terrible," Maybe-Sirius said bluntly, striding over. He pulled out his wand and tapped Harry lightly on the nose. "Episkey."
The wound on his stomach began closing. Harry could feel his flesh stitching back up, little pinpricks that pieced together like an invisible needle passing between his skin. But he hardly felt the pain… all he could look at was the much-alive and healthy-looking Sirius in front of him.
"I thought… I thought Voldemort had you," Harry choked out. The words tumbled out of his mouth, spoken in a half-splutter. "You… I saw you there… but you weren't, and everyone else's hurt-"
"Easy, easy." Sirius's voice was smooth. There was a crease beneath his eyebrows, but nothing else showed his worry. "You kids all stood up against the Dark Lord, one of the darkest wizards in wizarding history. I'd be surprised if you didn't come out with a few scrapes."
"Are you okay?" Harry breathed out.
Sirius huffed. "I should be asking you that. There's blood everywhere."
He hefted Harry up to his feet. For a second, the world spun through Harry's eyes, a whirl of colors that nearly made him fall again, but the comforting weight of Sirius's arm kept him up. At least the blurriness from his mind had disappeared, so he could finally, finally, think clearly.
On the other side, Lupin was waving his wand over Neville, whose nose had finally stopped bleeding. When Lupin spotted Harry staring at him, he gave him a quick smile, before turning his full attention back to Neville.
Kingsley was in the back, already taking care of Hermione and Ron… Mr. Weasley was over Ginny, muttering spells with his wand against her twisted leg… Tonks was striding towards Percy sprawled on the ground, with Luna hovering behind her like a strange, oddly-opaque ghost.
The Order had finally come… Voldemort wasn't going to get the prophecy and everyone would be going home safe…
Except for Lucius, a nasty voice said in his head.
Harry shook away the thought. He didn't want to think about the lifeless body, the green light that flashed before the long white fingers wrapped around the wand.
"Come on, let's get you back." In the background, Sirius continued speaking with a soothing tone, as Harry limped across the aquarium, away from the bodies littering the ground. "The whole Order's here… Dumbledore hasn't arrived yet, but he should be here soon."
"How did you know where to look for us?"
"Because the Order's brilliant." Sirius grinned at Harry, teeth bared in an oddly dog-like fashion. "We were tracking Voldemort's movements for a while and bugged this place."
Harry blinked. "Here?"
Sirius shrugged. "Dumbledore might be a bit on the loony side, but he knows what he's doing. He was the one who put up all the safeguards after realizing You-Know-Who's attention on the prophecy in this room."
"Professor Snape warned us as well," Lupin reminded him.
Sirius rolled his eyes. "The greasy git did contact us," he admitted. "Mentioned something about a vision you had… threw in a comment about mad wizards admitted to St Mungo's. The slimy…"
Lupin coughed. Sirius grinned sheepishly at him and quickly changed the subject. "Anyways, as soon as the wards notified us of the invasion, we left… but we couldn't go through Floo."
"Brooms and Polyjuice Potion," Lupin added. He had already cleaned up Neville, and they were now both heading towards the door. "Dumbledore should be coming to check the rest of this place… there might be a Death Eater or two still conscious."
Sirius eyed the room, filled with unconscious Death Eaters. A hint of a proud smile graced his lips. "Of course, there isn't much work left to be done. You did a number on them."
Harry hesitated. Something didn't feel right about this whole thing… how Medea left so suddenly, how Voldemort wasn't in the room…
"Did you find Voldemort?"
Both Lupin and Sirius turned towards him. Both of their faces were blank. "He's… not here," Sirius said carefully. "I think he might have escaped after the Order flew in."
Neville stopped walking towards the exit. "But that doesn't make sense."
Lupin sighed. "I understand that nothing about this makes sense, but we need to get you all out of here. I know you want to fight You-Know-Who still, but with your injuries, there's no way we can go against him."
Sirius nodded empathetically. "Dumbledore should be coming anyway. He was out when we left, but he should be arriving soon."
The rest of the Order was already leaving, trailing down the hallway in a strange procession of floating, unconscious bodies. Lupin followed next, with Neville close behind.
"Harry. We need to go." The urgency in Sirius's once calm voice was starting to show.
Without further protest, Harry let Sirius guide him through the door, thoughts still racing through his head. Why would Voldemort still stay inside the Ministry when the prophecy was already broken? Would he leave all of his Death Eaters to be re-captured by the Ministry?
Something tickled the back of his mind… something important.
"The prophecy… essential or not-"
"There is a reason why the Dark Lord has sent us to his place-"
"The Dark Lord has nothing to do with it-"
Medea's voice echoed in his head again, two comments from separate points in time. Standing over Percy's body. "They're still not here. Gods, how slow can they be?"
At first, Harry had assumed that "they" meant Voldemort. But why would she refer to Voldemort as "they" not "him"?
The Death Eaters were already in the room with the aquarium… there were no other people that she would be trying to wait for…
Turning around, eyes growing wide as the Order poured in through the doors. "They're here."
Unless she was waiting for the Order to come.
Harry tried to tug on Sirius's arm, but they were already in the room with the spinning doors… somehow, they had managed to go through the doors without Harry noticing. The doors had already shut behind them, and in a whirl of blue flames, the doors began spinning, around and around-
It was a tight squeeze in the room, filled to the brim with Aurors and bodies, but all that Harry could think about was the danger, the hook they swallowed-hook, line, sinker.
"I think we're heading towards a trap," Harry hissed.
Sirius threw him a startled look, but the room was already slowing down, and Tonks was already opening one of the doors to the next room… back in the grandiose room with the high ceilings and empty fireplaces dotting the walls, the majestic golden fountain in the middle-
Back in the entrance room.
Harry ripped his arm from Sirius's grasp, trying to rush forward… There were too many people, too many wizards outside the doors...
"Calm down, Harry," Sirius murmured, pulling Harry backward. "Panicking won't do anything. The Order is well-armed, you don't have to worry about anything-"
"It's a trap." Harry tried to rip his arm away again, but this time, Sirius was holding his arm steady. "We can't just wander through the Ministry… they're trying to have the Order all in one place-"
He stopped. A hand was reaching out from behind one of the pillars.
A flurry of wands, aiming towards the hand...
"Who's there?" Tonks gritted out, and her voice was no longer cheerful and bubbly. There was a tremor of nervousness that mirrored the trembling of her wand as she held it out against the person slowly pulling themself from behind the pillar.
A grizzled face… fake-eye rolling around in its socket…
Moody.
"Run," he gasped, voice low and raspy. "He's here-"
Tonks was backing up horrified… Moody had pulled back his hand, leaving a streak of blood like someone had dragged a red paintbrush across the ground. Lupin grabbed a fistful of Tonk's cloak and pulled… the rest of the Order was rushing back towards the room with the doors-
Before anyone could reach the spinning room, the door slammed shut.
Harry's hair stood up on his skin, the air turning colder as everyone in the Order froze-
Then, agony.
Harry clapped a hand on his scar… a splitting headache tore his skull into two, he couldn't scream, couldn't move-
"So eager to leave," Voldemort's voice rang out through the room in a low hiss. His black cloak appeared first, then his snake-like face appeared in front of them, red eyes glittering. "Not so fast."
Flashes of red, green, blue. They immediately disintegrated before even getting close to Voldemort, absorbed by a barrier as gray as dust… the same barrier that Bellatrix used to protect herself from Percy and Harry.
The ringing in Harry's head was growing louder, but the pain was receding. His head was still throbbing beneath his fingers, but at least he could think-
Voldemort's red eyes met him for the second time that day, and the gleam of triumph sent cold chills running down his spine… there was some other plan he was missing, something that he didn't know but Voldemort did-
Sirius suddenly let go of Harry's arm. "Don't look at him," Sirius spat, drawing his wand out. He stepped right in front of him, between Voldemort's line of vision and Harry. "You lost. Your Death Eaters are all unconscious, Dumbledore is coming…"
"And so it seems," Voldemort drawled. "Hello, Sirius Black. I've been waiting for you."
Sirius recoiled backward. "Waiting for me?"
"Imperio."
Before anyone could move, the Imperio hit Sirius straight in the chest.
For a second, the blue light lit up Sirius's face, revealing the expression of shock beneath. Then, Sirius stiffened up, hands falling still beside his sides. There was none of the spark left inside of that gaze… just an odd sort of light that wasn't quite Sirius-like.
Fury burned within Harry, licking up his insides until all he could feel was the rage bubbling inside of him.
"STUPEFY!"
In an unnaturally fast movement, Sirius swept out his wand and deflected Harry's spell.
"Next time, I'll make him jump in front of the spell." The voice came from Sirius, empty and emotionless. His lips were hardly moving, but somehow, his voice came out loud and clear towards the motionless Order surrounding him. "Is that settled?"
Behind Harry, Lupin made a strangely choked sound, before he fell silent as Sirius's blank eyes swiveled around to meet his.
"Good."
This time, the word came from Voldemort himself.
'
Harry lunged forward, but before he could get another step forward, another arm stopped him, pulled him back like Sirius had done when he tried to warn the others about the trap.
"You can't, Harry," Lupin whispered. "Not right now… it's a waiting game. He will kill us."
"I don't care," Harry snapped back. Sirius was in danger… everyone was just standing around, just waiting-
"You must. Any movement now would be useless."
The words didn't stop Harry from struggling, but the agony in them did, the same pain that was pounding in Harry's chest. The tone of helplessness that Harry recognized, felt so deeply that it reverberated through his body.
He fell limp against Lupin's arm.
"Summon your house-elf," Voldemort hissed.
In a flat voice, Sirius called out, "Kreacher!"
A flash. Kreacher appeared in front of them all, already bent over in a deep bow. His dirty rags were still draped over him, covered in dirt and grime. "Kreacher shall do what Master tells him to do," he said triumphantly. His round, bulbous eyes flickered over to Voldemort before facing the ground again.
"I've heard that your previous master had a very… close relationship with you," Voldemort said.
The victory in Kreacher's pose immediately drained away, filled with fear instead. It was such a drastic transition that Harry nearly took a step back, if not for Lupin already behind him.
A past master? Harry had remembered that Ron had stated that the pureblood families had an extensive family tree, but Harry didn't realize that Kreacher used to be owned by someone else in the family.
"Answer my question, house-elf."
A tremble shuddered through Kreacher's body, and despite his ugliness towards Muggleborns, pity for the cowering creature flickered within Harry's chest.
"Master Regulus," Kreacher finally croaked out. "He was Kreacher's master."
Voldemort's eyes sharpened. "R.A.B. Regulus Arcturus Black."
Another shiver wracked through Kretcher's body.
"Bring me the locket."
There was no argument in Voldemort's tone, no room for interpretation, but Kreacher still hesitated.
The locket from his dream, Harry realized with a start. The dream that both Percy and he shared, the one where Voldemort was screaming into the basin among shimmering, green waters.
This was the plan. This was what Macnair was talking about when he said that prophecy was the least of their worries, this was why Voldemort needed the entire Order to come.
Because Voldemort knew that the only way Sirius would come out would be when Harry was in danger. And something about the locket must be significant if Voldemort went through such lengths to retrieve it.
"Bring me the locket." This time, the voice came from Sirius's mouth that opened and moved unnaturally, as if Voldemort was manipulating his mouth himself. "The one that Regulus Black retrieved from the lake."
This time, Kreacher popped out of existence.
A few seconds later, he returned, a large, silver necklace intertwined within his fingers. On the front of the locket, a snake was emblazoned on, coiled into the shape of "S".
"Well?" Still in Sirius's voice.
Tears were dripping down Kretcher's long nose. They left little dark dots on the dusty ground as Kreacher unwillingly stretched out his small arms.
The silver locket tumbled out of Kretcher's hands and into Voldemort's pale ones.
In the shine of the locket, Harry could see Voldemort admiring the snake of the locket, the little, precise carvings etched in the silver. Then, he slipped the locket within his cloak, pulling out his wand once more.
"House-elf."
No response.
"You are of no use to me anymore."
Kreacher didn't move. He just stood there, all life drained out of him. When he turned around to meet the rest of the Order's gaze, there was only just emptiness in them.
"Avada Kedavra."
Green light illuminated the room. The veil in the strange doorway at the bottom of the stairs fluttered without any breeze as everyone's faces lit up with the brilliant green light.
He never even flinched.
Kreacher's small body hit the ground, motionless. His large eyes were still wide open, streaks of wetness that remained on his cheeks.
Somehow, he seemed even smaller than he had ever been in life.
Through his fog of horror, Harry faintly saw Voldemort turn towards him.
"And one more," Voldemort said. A cruel smile curled his lips. "Just to teach you a lesson, Harry Potter."
His mind was still on the small creature curled up on the ground, blank eyes staring up into heaven. An unreal quality hung in the air, as if nothing today had been real… as if Voldemort himself standing in front of them was just a figment of his imagination-
"Dreams are not real life, Harry Potter."
The arm around Harry's chest suddenly disappeared, as Lupin lurched forward… Tonks was screaming, Lupin's hand was suddenly on Sirius's arm-
Sirius, who was still standing blankly in front of Harry, Sirius, who didn't even flinch when-
At that same exact moment, something in the halls shattered, like an invisible glass barrier dropped on the ground. Wizards and witches began filling the fireplaces, popping into existence… filling the room with the initial sounds of chatter and friendly talk...
"Avada Kedavra."
A deadly hush suddenly pierced the room, sweeping the outside conversations away...
Tonks was still screaming, Lupin still desperately trying to pull Sirius away when the green light exploded against Sirius's chest...
And Harry saw the brief moment when Sirius's expression changed as the Imperio stopped working, saw his eyes widen, mouth opening, nose flaring… before his expression froze, the shadows on his face illuminated by the green spell-
The light in his eyes flickered out.
Then he was falling, falling…
Sirius was on the ground, and Harry couldn't understand why… why Sirius was laying there, staring blankly at the ceiling… why everyone's screaming was so muffled, sounding as if they were underwater… why his own legs were moving forward… why Sirius's eyes were still so strangely open, as if they were seeing nothing-
"Sirius?"
Hands were pulling at him, but he ignored them. He crouched down next to Sirius. "Sirius, this isn't funny-"
"Harry you must get back-"
"Was that Voldemort? Was that really Voldemort?"
Sirius wasn't moving still… he could feel his hands trembling because it couldn't be, he had been smiling just minutes ago-
"Who said the killing curse?"
"Harry, please, get back-"
He was shaking Sirius, but Sirius still wasn't fully waking up, just sightlessly staring up at the ceiling… Sirius, the one who never was serious, Sirius, the one who pranced around as a dog around children, just to make them laugh… but Harry wasn't laughing now-
"Merlin's underpants, is that Sirius Black?"
"He's gone Harry, he's gone-"
Someone tugged his hand away from Sirius, but he pulled away and lurched forward… he just had to try harder, it was just all a bad joke, Sirius was really good at bad jokes-
"Did all of the Floo fireplaces not work-oh my, Sirius Black?"
"I SAW VOLDEMORT, IT REALLY WAS HIM-"
The same person spun him around, and he saw that it was Dumbledore, eyes no longer twinkling… tears were trickling down his long, crooked nose, bright blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles, filled with sorrow and anguish.
"I'm sorry, Harry."
"Sirius isn't waking up, Professor Dumbledore," Harry gasped frantically, gesturing towards Sirius's motionless body. "You have to help him, Professor, please-"
A hand on his shoulder. Dumbledore was still staring at him with those sorrowful, bright blue eyes, now crouched to the same height as Harry.
"Sirius is gone."
"He can't be," Harry whispered out, and somehow he didn't know if he was trying to say the truth, or if he was just pleading to some higher being. "He still had years left, Professor, you need to fix him, please-"
"He is gone, Harry. I'm terribly sorry." Dumbledore's voice was gentle.
"He can't be… it'll be my fault for him coming over…" the words wouldn't come out of Harry's mouth, couldn't do the situation justice. "He came over to protect me, and he's… he can't be… be dead..."
"I'm sorry."
Harry placed his face into his hands and screamed without sound, without words, as the world shattered around him.
No one saw the Veil in the other room tremble ever so slightly.
I'm still alive! I'm so so so sorry for not updating in a while- as you've all been probably seeing with the trend of these author notes, IRL has been increasingly getting hectic. We had a few COVID-19 scares at where I work (my roommate had to quarantine because she had a kid in her class who tested positive, so we all panicked lol), and I had a ton of projects just suddenly pushed into my control because everyone else was too busy freaking out about their lives and being sad/stressed (a wonderful combination).
That being said, thank you all for being so patient. I cannot express how much I appreciate all of your comments. :)
Because you all deserve to know, I'll mention what my updating plans are going to be. I'll push out one more chapter in two weeks (hopefully... it might take a little bit longer tbh to get it finished, but I'll try my best, depending on IRL), and that will be the end of part 1 of this story! I'll then focus on stockpiling chapters and getting a more specific outline for the second part of this crossover, so you guys will be getting regular updates again (would safely assume that this second wave of chapters will come next year).
I will guarantee that the first part of this story is very very essential to a bunch of plot points in the second part, so once the second part comes out again, you might want to refresh your memory. I'm actually planning on doing the same, just to make sure I don't miss anything in my second round of outlining, so you'll know I'll also be suffering while reading this monstrosity again. :^)
Anyway, happy belated Thanksgiving to ya'll Americans, and hope you guys had a safe and fun holiday, despite the craziness! Just to be cheesy- things I'm thankful for: I didn't get to see my parents this year for the Thanksgiving holidays, but 1) I am super thankful for my school team for inviting me over so I wasn't alone, since my roommates dipped for the rest of this year 2) having a great partner teacher who's super patient with the kids online (3rd graders on chromebooks are a nightmare LOL) 3) ofc, you guys ;)
(I had to add the last part, yes)
Sorry this is such a long author's note haha, I can't believe it's been more than a month! Again, I very much apologize for the super super delayed update, but I hope you enjoyed this chapter and aren't feeling too sad now that everyone's dead (jkjk... kinda). Stay safe as always, and much turkey appreciations for being able to share this story here. :)